


Fuck.

by i_gaze_at_scully



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Angst, Heavy Angst, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-31
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2020-01-15 04:33:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18491428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_gaze_at_scully/pseuds/i_gaze_at_scully
Summary: Season 6 hate fucking





	Fuck.

Dry. She’s so dry. She rubs at herself furiously, knowing beyond a doubt that she won’t come tonight, but too enraged to quit. She is dry as a bone and when she cries out, it is in frustration, not pleasure. She slams her fist into the too-thin mattress and curses.

  
She hates him.

One thin wall is all that separates her and this man. She hates him, but she hates that wall more.

After her failed attempts at relief, she slams the shower head on, jamming her thumb in the process, cursing again and lamenting the tears that sting her eyes.

She hates him.

The hot water scalds, but she welcomes it. She can’t stop the thoughts, and at this point she’s stopped trying. It’s a betrayal, his ask. He asks her to trust as though it didn’t take him until she was abducted for  _his_  quest for him to fully trust her. He asks her to welcome this woman into their lives and let his water flow under her bridge. How  _dare_  he.

Sometimes it’s too much to take, and sometimes she remembers that an explosion would bust the wall and then she’d have no protection from him. So she bites her fist and lets the water drown her grunts.

There is no pleasure or pain strong enough to rid her of him.

She towels off as best she can with the paper thin motel cloth and it’s then that the tired hits. It’s then that her guard is down and the tears spring to her eyes. It’s then that she wants to give up, go home. There is no home though, not anymore. She avoids her reflection on the way out of the bathroom.

He’s there, on her bed. Poised at the edge like he’s got one foot in the underworld, like he’s as likely to bolt as he is to stay. Looking at her with apprehension for only a moment, because after a moment, after the shock subsides, she turns to ice.

“Get  _out_.” It is simple and unyielding and she means it. How  _dare_ he.

“We need to talk.” He stands, the full height of him meant to intimidate her but she’s spent six years defying physics in the face of this man and she is not backing down now.

“I said, get out.” She juts her chin out but it isn’t enough, so she brings both palms to his chest and pushes. She pushes hard enough for him to stumble back, but it still isn’t enough. “Get  _OUT_.” She shoves him again, harder, but he catches her wrists on his chest and pulls her flush against him.

There’s a moment where her training kicks in and she nearly wipes his legs out from under him in self-defense, but the magnetism in his eyes renders her still a millisecond later. If she didn’t know any better, she’d say she saw fear there before the rage, but she knows better. When his hands release her wrists and knot in her hair instead, and when his lips latch onto hers with vacuum like power, she thinks to let her frustration out in a single scream. What comes out is a strangled groan, and it was all over from there. Her own body responds, her stomach flush against his groin, her pelvis gravitating towards his in increasing intensity. She bites his lip, hard, hard enough to draw blood, hard enough for him to yank her back by the hair. She shoves him off of her like she’s going to walk away, like she isn’t doomed to this, and he all but tackles her onto the bed, clumsily and oblongly. His boxers are at his ankles and they’re hanging half off the bed when he shoves his fingers into her and she’s so wet it feels like nothing at all. When he starts pumping, she squirms, and he brings his other hand to her chest to hold her in place.

“Why can’t you just–” He starts, cutting himself off by latching onto her breast. He yanks mercilessly on her nipple and she yelps in spite of herself.  _No_.

In one fell swoop she wraps her legs around his waist and shifts her weight to flip him over onto the bed beneath her. With a hand to his throat she reaches the other to his cock and grips it firmly. The world stands still as she holds desperately onto what little power she has left in the world.

“You don’t own me,” she spits. “You don’t make my decisions. You can’t tell me who to trust and what to do.” When he opens his mouth she covers it with her own, bites his tongue for him. For a moment, the kiss turns tender, her grip loosening, but she pulls away. Unceremoniously she lowers herself onto him and his hands come automatically to her hips. She rocks herself against him until he turns her move around on her, flips them and pins her beneath him. His weight is suffocating and he breathes heavy into her ear.

“You’re not. Fucking. Leaving.” He grunts between thrusts, and she digs her nails into his back, scraping, most definitely drawing blood. God she  _hates_  him, she hates him, she–

She comes. She comes, and he comes, and she hates herself for it.

He collapses on top of her and she instinctively wraps her arms around him, once scathing hands now tracing soothing circles across the expanse of his back. She presses her lips to his shoulder and squeezes her eyes shut. She allows herself this moment, then releases him and puts her hands between them to move him off.

“Don’t,” he whispers, at least she thinks he does, but then he’s gone. He is perched on the edge of her bed again, but this time there is no doubt of his direction. He leaves, the adjoining door clicking softly behind him, and the only thing she feels is the cool of the air from the floor vent against her bare feet.

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt credit to @scully-eats-sushi on tumblr


End file.
